True Hero
by g o o d btye
Summary: Herobrine, fed up with the dictatorship his older brother leads, finds himself in a startling predicament being set up as a villain to the public. Running away, he only hopes that one day he may return to explain himself, and hopefully rescue the clueless citizens from their blind lives. [REMAKING ON A SEPARATE ACCOUNT.]


"You can't be serious."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"This is stupid, Notch. _Stupid._ " He flung his arms up dramatically, trying to emphasize his point, "Don't you see that cutting so many people off like that is going to make people angry? I know people love you, but if you keep doing this shit they really aren't going to tolerate it..."

"They aren't going to tolerate it, eh?"

"No! They're going to see you're just greedy, and with you raising the taxes recently, it's going to become clear as day. You need to tone it down, just wait. People can't afford this, and if a whole chunk of them lose their jobs, not only will those people be angry, but their families will be angry."

Notch let out a frustrated sigh. Herobrine could not see why his older brother had a reason for frustration, as he was merely being stupid with his decisions. Notch was the sole ruler of Minecraftia, the largest city in the realm of Minecraft. Built by hand by the very people who resided within it, he inherited the land from his father. Being the oldest, he took control quickly and discarded any notion of organized government, instead opting for a dictatorship in want of power. He was seen as a benevolent leader. He listened to the people and did his best, but that was just what the people saw from the outside. Herobrine, and others who worked closely under Notch-Notice the keyword: _under_. No one works alongside Notch, everyone is beneath him.-knew him as a greedy man who wanted to be even richer than he already was. He would unleash new laws that no one had asked for and change systems at will. It was a wonder the city managed to get back on its feet after every staggering blow. Yet, people still managed to practically worship Notch as if he were some kind of god. They praised him, saying he was only doing his best.

Truly, Notch was stubborn.

"Listen, Herobrine," Notch spoke slowly, as though he were speaking to a young child condescendingly. Herobrine felt a bit of rage flare up inside him, but he held it down and bit his tongue, cocking his head to the side as he prepared for what was almost certainly a lecture, "You are a great... advisor. You do your best to let me know when you think things aren't right and when things need to be fixed. But, no, listen. That is all you are. Merely an advisor. And if you remember, I am in charge of everything here. I can do what I want, when I want, because I know what's best for my city. Ok? No, not just for my city. My _kingdom_. Our father and I and you worked tirelessly on the construction of this idea and worked it to perfection until it was absolutely perfect. And dad knew what he was doing when he appointed me as the leader on his deathbed. Had he appointed you, we would probably be much worse off. You are young, Brine. You are young and too easily swayed by the opinions of others. To lead, you need to take those opinions by the horns and throw them to the side like the dirt they are because you have to remember that you are the sole leader and your word goes."

He offered a smile as if he was sharing some old, important wisdom that he learned from his years leading. Herobrine had to physically bite his tongue to keep back a nasty retort.

"Basically, I suppose what I'm trying to say, Brine, is that: I am the ruler. My word goes. If you were meant to be thinking up ideas for this place, dad would have appointed _you_ as the leader. But he didn't. So, here we are. And we are productive, hardworking, prosperous, and wonderful. With you, we'd be nowhere. Still sitting on the scraps of what Dad left us. Ok? So just calm down, and-uh-how do I say this nicely? Stop with the pestering and ideas."

Herobrine grit his teeth. He could feel the pent-up tension in his muscles from his anger. He wanted to slam his fists down on the spruce desk between them and yell out how ridiculous his entire speech was. He wanted to enforce his own belief that perhaps Dad did not appoint Notch. No one else was in the room when he supposedly said these words, and everyone could have been so easily manipulated by this grief-stricken, power-hungry man. No one could say no to someone in his state. Instead of having an outburst, he tried to control himself. Sucking in a deep breath and steadying himself, he slowly laid his palms down on the table, resting his weight on them as he leaned forward.

"Notch, _please._ Listen to reason."

"What reason, Brine? Please, just leave. We're done here."

Letting out an animalistic growl, Herobrine suddenly clenched his hands into a fist and pounded the desk, letting out some of his rage through the motion. The desk cracked, and Notch visibly flinched. His gaze sharpened, and he stood quickly as if to defend himself.

"Why don't you understand?" Herobrine raised his voice, stepping away from the desk as if speaking to himself. His mind went blank for a moment, and the next thing he knew he was lunging over the desk at his brother. Notch cried out in surprise and stumbled back. Herobrine swung his arm wide and could feel power rushing from his head to his arm and out the tips of his fingers as a torch's flame leaped from the mounted stick and flew in a glowing blur toward the older man. It struck him on the shoulder and set his shirt alight. Herobrine was jerked out of his blind rade nearly immediately as Notch panicked and began pulling off the flaming shirt, quickly trying to discard the item before it did more damage.

"Guards!" Notch called, throwing the shirt on the ground and stomping out the flame. He held his shoulder, where the skin was charred dark and oozing blood. His expression was a grimace of pain. Herobrine, now, began to panic. He looked toward the door, where he knew guards stood just outside and would be in momentarily. He could explain himself, right? He stepped toward Notch to help, but Notch quickly drew his iron sword which was sheathed at his belt and brandished it at him, holding him back. His now-exposed shoulder freely dripped blood down and ran a streak across his chest. He held his other arm a bit stiffly, trying to limit the movement of his injured shoulder muscle.

The door was thrown open and two guards ran inside, swords drawn and ready to assist Notch. Herobrine threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender, stepping quickly away from the dangerous weapon points. Notch looked at the guards, a fire in his eyes.

"Apprehend him, now. Lock him up."

"What?" Herobrine's eyes went wide, "But-I-let me explain!"

The guards were not listening. They only took Notch's orders, Herobrine was not above them. Only equal. Maybe not even that. His gaze darted around the room, looking for some way to get out of his predicament. He was unarmed, as he was not authorized to carry a weapon casually. His eyes settled on the huge glass window overlooking part of the city. The glass was not thick, he knew. Simple panes that could be broken with a few punches. He hesitated before suddenly sprinting and leaping at the window.

Both the guards and Notch froze in shock for a split second as Herobrine's body collided with the glass, shattering it. He flew through and out over the city. He felt a rush of adrenaline and terror, but he knew he would be fine. At least, he hoped he would. Taking in a sharp breath and letting out a cry of pain as the glass cut into his skin, he allowed himself to lose all feeling. This feeling, familiar yet strange, overtook him quickly. He felt nothing, and it was as if he was nothing. He let go, and suddenly he was just floating. As if he were driftwood on water, he froze mid-air. Opening his eyes, which he had shut tight on contact with the glass, he found himself several feet away from the window of the large Mojang building, several stories up. Notch and the guards were staring at him wide-eyed from within.

Shaking off his shock, Notch shouted orders at the guards that Herobrine was not paying attention to. The guards immediately followed whatever orders had been given, and one of them dashed off out of the room. The other guard took his bow off from his shoulder and began to string an arrow. Herobrine took a moment to realize he was still in danger, and quickly allowed the feeling to return to his body. He fell. He was falling fast, the ground coming upward to meet him. He would have been a Herobrine-pancake was it not for his quick-acting abilities. He lost feeling again several feet from his destination. The abrupt stop disoriented him, and he was dizzy for a moment and quickly tried to blink back to his composure. He heard cries of surprise from below, citizens going about their day only to be disrupted by a falling Herobrine following a cascade of glass from above. He murmured apologizes before allowing himself to drop roughly to the ground.

Standing, though still dizzy, he began at an unsteady sprint down the street, pumping his arms and trying to keep from wobbling as he ran. He was seeing double, his head was spinning, and it took several moments before he could even begin to properly build up his speed. He risked a glance back to see several guards coming to chase after them, probably having been alerted by Notch or the guard who ran off. An arrow struck the ground just behind him, so he looked ahead and picked up his pace, his heart pounding. He dashed passed random bystanders who stood in shock, confused at the scene.

"Get him, don't just stand there!" A guard shouted. People still stood stunned, but some people shook themselves into action, swiping at him or joining the pursuit. Herobrine did not want to fight back, he was already in a deep enough problem as it was. If he attacked, he would most definitely have no chance to defend himself. So he ran faster, his heart was hammering against his ribs and his lungs burned. He could feel his legs beginning to go numb from the rhythmic, quick steps. He took a sharp left into a nearly-empty alleyway. The only thing populating it was an old dumpster, overflowing with garbage. This allowed him to gain a bit of distance, as his pursuers were not expecting this and were forced to slow down. In a disorganized panic, they also managed to slow themselves down in an attempt to squeeze into the alley all at once. Some people stumbled and fell and others shoved through as best as they could. Regardless of their strategy, no one was catching up with him until he had left the alleyway. He was sprinting toward the edge of the city. His plan was to retreat into the forest and hide there until things calmed down. Hopefully, he could come back and explain himself eventually.

He was close to the tree line, very close. Not even ten seconds and he would cross the tree line. He knew if he went deep enough, no one would dare follow him. Not without organization. Citizens, of course, were not allowed outside of the borders without authorization. Which, he knew for a fact, they did not possess. He also knew they would not dare to break the laws their god laid out for them, so he smiled to himself at his brilliant idea. His feet hit the soft grass, and he slowed immediately. Not because he wanted to, but the stone was easier to move on than grass. He still kept going, not stopping. He could hear the pursuers behind him, shouting after him.

"Get back here! Stop!" Arrows were shot at him, one struck him in the calf, and he stumbled and fell to the ground. He let out a sharp cry and looked back at the group waiting at the tree line. A cheer went up from a couple of the guards at the result of the shot. He growled and pulled himself up using the thick trunk of an oak. One of the guards began to hesitantly step toward him, beyond the treeline. Herobrine looked around, trying to drive him off without harm. He fixed the young guard with his sharp glare and allowed himself to feel energy swirling around in his head. He raised an arm and swung it in a fan in front of him. The young guard was shoved back roughly by an invisible force manipulated by Herobrine. The guard let out a shriek of surprise, stumbling back and looking around for the source, unaware of the abilities Herobrine possessed thanks to his father's side of the family. The only thing that truly made him more special than his brother, his abilities that he was forced to keep secret from most everyone.

No point in that now, he had to defend himself. He shuffled backward, more guards began drawing back arrows, aiming at him. Herobrine kept his arm raised, ready to send the arrows flying to the side once fired. He refused to injure any of them with more than a bit of a scare. He was going to be peaceful, he could not make things worse for himself.

"Ready. Fire!" Arrows shot toward him fast, but he cast them aside with a flick of his wrist. He shuffled back faster, trying to keep pressure off his injured calf as much as possible. The arrow in his calf was distracting and uncomfortable, but trying to pull it out now would make it even worse.

"Come on!" He provoked, trying to straighten and make himself look threatening, "You gonna come get me? Oh, that's right, _you can't_." He used this time to remind them of the fact that they could not enter the forest without specific jurisdiction from Notch himself.

Many faces in the crowd went sour, as they knew he was correct in this. Angrily, they grumbled.

"Alright, Herobrine." One of the guards spat, he looked familiar but Herobrine couldn't place him, "Yeah, you're right. But I trust you know as well as I do that Notch would most certainly give us that jurisdiction without hesitation once he learns you're here."

"I'm sure." Herobrine smiled. "Good luck finding me, though."

"It-" Before the guard could get anything out, Herobrine turned and limped off, safe in the knowledge that he was fine. If they tried to shoot again he'd deflect them. He tried to seem confident, but inside he was terrified. Why was this suddenly such a big deal? Why did Notch act so quickly on this? He worried about returning, and could not shake a bad feeling as he went, and he hoped it was only that: a feeling.

He did not look back.


End file.
